


Gang of Youths

by TreeMaiden (Dalzo)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalzo/pseuds/TreeMaiden
Summary: They’re young, stupid and make mistakes. According to the world, that’s what makes you a kid.But they’re slowly drifting into adulthood with their final year of school beginning and their future right 'round the corner.And really, how much more complicated could adulting be compared to the stress of school?Arya Stark and Gendry Waters are about to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Here's me just being a millennial, writing about the woes and complications of a teenager's life.  
> I've drawn inspo from Gang of Youths 'The Position', so be sure to check out the album. The whole album, to me, is basically telling the whole world to 'fuck off',  
> With every new chapter will come a new song off the album, so be sure to check out the links at eh end A/N :)  
> Cheers!

~ Poison Drum ~

_‘But I am doing everything I can_  
_For the minds of men that I've never met_  
_Too tired from saving money just to save myself’_

~ * ~

It wasn’t anything new to walk into the kitchen and find Bella perched on the counter-bench, kissing some random bloke. It was no different this morning, only the bloke Gendry was _used_ to seeing locking-lips with his older sister had been replaced with another; _her new pick for the new month._

Neither one of the pair acknowledged him after entering the room, but simply carried on with the _touching_ and _kissing_ like it wasn’t a private, affectionate affair two people shared with each other – then again, Bella had _never_ been interested in privacy, always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

The ‘new guy’ was an arrogant one; with his smirky-pout, lean frame and eyes that shined not unlike his silver-blonde hair; he was a groomer and had that look all the girls wanted these days. He would never truly learn his name, despite the future morning walk-ins that would _surely_ occur between his sister and her new toy. To Gendry, he would _always_ be _February;_ Feb, for short. There was no use in remembering someone’s name when they wouldn’t stick around for very long.

Bella was quick to bore and poor unfortunate _Feb_ would be no different than the others. Another meaningless object to amuse and fulfil her whims before _March_ piqued her interest.  

“I want this back.” They’d finally broke apart, with _Feb_ tugging on the white-button-down Bella wore. She batted her eyelashes and smirked.

“You’ll have to _tear_ it off me.” He cleared his throat, then, not wanting _that_ particular conversation ruining his day. _Feb_ barely glanced in the brother’s direction before his eyes _and_ hands were back on Bella.

“Next time.”

“Is that a promise?”

“A _pinky_ promise.” The eyeroll came naturally at the cliched response. “I’ll text you later, yeah? We’ll make plans, then.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Bella hummed, leaning forward for one last _aggressive_ kiss before _Feb_ final backed away, sent a sheepish grin Gendry’s way and staggered out of the kitchen.

“Wow.”

“Oh, shut it.” Bella snapped, sneering. _“That’s disgusting.”_ She gave her brother a once-over of disgust as he drank from the carton of milk.

Gendry nodded to her seat on the bench, lifting a brow, knowing full-well she would only have her skimpy knickers on underneath that shirt.

She huffed, hopped off the counter to start boiling the kettle and snatched the milk out of his hands.

“Are you enjoying your new play-thing?”

“Fuck off Gendry!” She gritted out, grabbing a mug from the high cupboards. “Don’t be jealous. Just because Jeyne left you high-and-dry doesn’t give you the right to take your pent-up-sexual-aggression on my relationships.”

“Relationships?” He _almost_ laughed.  

“Yes. _Relationships.”_ She answered coolly. “Something that you, at this current moment, don’t have. Whether it’s just sex or love or whatever-the-fuck, at least I have someone.”

“Right.” She sighed at his dry response and spooned in the cheap coffee ground.

“I don’t care what you think, Gendry. But it would be nice if you refrained from the insulting comments, this time around.”

“Does the bloke know what he’s in for? February _is_ the shortest month of the year.”

“I honestly don’t know why I bothered with you.”

“Okay, fine.” She raised a brow. “I’ll be nicer _if_ you can manage _not_ to snog on the kitchen counter. This is _supposed_ to be a sanitary place, you know?”

“You’re asking too much of me.” He laughed and shook his head at his smirking sister.

“You’re insane.” Bella hummed and nodded before becoming preoccupied with the kettle.

“You want one?” She glanced to her tea. “There’s enough for one more.”

“Nah.” Gendry quickly chanced a look at his watch, groaning. “I should get going. I’m _technically_ late for school already.”

“You’re hopeless.”

He shrugged. “It’s only rollcall. I should be there in time for period one. _I think…”_

“You see, _that’s_ the sort of attitude that’ll have you failing school.”

“Says the drop-out.” He mumbled, ignoring her icy glare. “I’m working tonight and _Mott’s_ staying late at the shop so don’t make plans with Feb, yeah?” She pouted at this. “Unless Mya can take Barra off your hands.”

_“His name is Aegon.”_

“Egg-on?” Gendry laughed. “Poor thing.” He dodged the slipper that came flying his way and rushed out of the house, laughing, grabbing his keys and bag on the way.

It took twenty minutes to get to school; he swore over his shitty 1995 Toyota Corolla (another hole in the damn muffler), brooded in the traffic and scoffed down two bacon and egg rolls he bought in-between trip from his house to his school.

He was five minutes late for period one after he parked in KL High’s (one of the many public schools in the city) student carpark but his Industrial Tech teacher usually was, too. Dondarrion wasn’t one to rush, always conversing with one of the other TAZ teachers.

He speedily reached the TAZ rooms after locking his car, breezing past Dondarrion’s desk. He was leaning over the desk, marking the digital roll from the interactive whiteboard.

“Morning Waters.” He gave him a glance before continuing on to his task.

Good morning, Sir.” He replied before sliding into the seat next to Mycha.

Usually, they’d be working on their latest project (especially with the major one due by the end of July worth half their marks), but like every other year when the first term of the first semester, the safety test was to be completed by every student. So whenever the odd theory lesson popped up, like today, he’d always take his seat next to Mycha. None of Gendry’s close mates took up Industrial Tech, so taking a seat to the bloke on your rugby team was the best option.

“Hey Gen.” Mycha grunted, fiddling with his phone. “Have a decent holiday?”

“Didn’t do all that much.” He answered, sighed. “Mostly just worked in the shop and delivered pizzas.” Mycha nodded.

“Same here. I was up too damn early, cleaning bloody floors.” Mycha sighed heavily, too, pocketing his phone. “Dad’s pushing me into the trade, like usual.”

“What I _wouldn’t_ give to get a trade. Why do they always pick the rich fuckers in Kings Landing as their apprentice?” Mycha snorted.

“Because their daddy’s pay the blokes well, that’s why. A trade would be nice; just not as a fucking butcher.” Gendry couldn’t help but agree. “Keen for the rugby season?”

“I’m still debating signing up. If I ever want to get out of this shithole, I need all the hours I can get.” Gendry rubbed at his sore neck.

“Gods, I hope you do. We can’t have Ned fucking Dayne filling in as Prop since no other wanker will do it. That git’s weaker than a bloody child.”

“That’s _technically_ my nephew you’re talkin’ about, Mych’.” Their teacher interrupted the conversation. “But you’re not wrong. He’s a small kid, but at _least_ he’s braver than you.” Gendry sniggered at Mycha’s flustered complexion, matching the flaming red hair atop his head. 

“Oh, come off it, Sir!” Mycha was quick to banter back. “What _you_ call bravery, I call stupidity; you have to have a pretty thick head to play _Prop._ ”

“I can see that.” Dondarrion grinned, pointedly nodding in Gendry’s direction as the class sniggered.

“Why was I brought into this?”

“Because you were late.” Their teacher replied smugly, smirking to himself. “That’s enough holiday chit-chat for now. Onto the bloody bane-of-my-existence safety quiz shite.” Most of the TAZ teachers were easy going; Mr. Dondarrion was a _perfect_ example of this. “Luckily for us, Friday mornings are our double; if you lot _don’t_ pass this piss-pot easy safety test, just know I won’t have all that much faith in you when exams come ‘round.”

He went around with the first stack of papers, handing the seniors are separate piece and _basically_ giving them the answers when one or two of them were genuinely complicated (they were usually the rules that never applied to anything). The questions were mostly just common-sense, but a few who took Industrial Tech weren’t exactly the brightest – it’s why _most_ of the students liked the subject. They were good at it, unlike academic subjects such as English or Maths.

Gendry was a _rubbish_ speller, himself.

Mr. Dondarrion was nice enough to play his playlist through the speakers, even though all the seniors could agree his music was shite. He _occasionally_ let them suggest a certain song, but instantly stopped when Mycha _ironically_ suggested that awful song from the _Sand Snake Sisters,_ ‘A Kiss of Death’.

There was little chatter among the small group of seniors, mostly just eager to get the stupid quiz over with so they could get into the industrial rooms and get to work.

When the second bell _finally_ rang, and they all handed in their papers (which Dondarrion thankfully corrected if a mistake arose), Gendry sighed in relief and followed Mycha out of the rooms.

“Waters!” Gendry turned at his teacher’s voice. “You make sure you sign up for rugby, now. Dayne _really_ would be a rubbish Prop.” Mycha chuckled. “Make sure he does, Mych’.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

The two made their way through the now-crowded paths of the school, kids of all ages making their way to their areas, canteen or even the Library to spend their recess peacefully studying. With it only being the third day back, Gendry wasn’t too keen on _thinking_ about studying.

They reached the senior area, saying a quick ‘see you later’ before they made over to their respective groups.

Gendry sidled into the table smoothly, mood already dropping at the sight of Hot Pie and Lommy’s scowling faces.

“They already arguing?” he asked Weasel who he slid in next to. She nodded her answer, heaving a sigh out from his lips. She didn’t talk much, usually just had her nose stuck in a book eating with a piece of fruit stuck in her hand.

“She’s _got_ to have a boyfriend. Did you get a look at her?” Hot Pie argued.

“I thought she was a boy when I first saw her.”  Hot Pie scoffed at Lommy’s reply, shaking his head making his chin jiggle.

“But she was pretty; admit it!”

“Yes, she was pretty. Pretty enough to slag it up but not so pretty to own a boyfriend.”

“Own?” Gendry grimaced as Weasel’s head popped up from her book, glaring at the two of them.

“Well, we’re all just free collars to women, aren’t we?”

“Gods help us all.” Gendry mutted, running a hand down his face as Weasel shook her head in disgust before glancing down at her book.

“Well, _I_ thought she was gorgeous. Did you see her eyes when you suggested we ‘Ban the Veil’ in Westeros?”

“I sure as fuck heard her screechy voice.”

“You didn’t really suggest that ‘movement’, really?”

“Of course I did. Asshai has stupid religious customs; If I visited and didn’t conform, I’d get spat on. So why don’t _we_ impose a similar law on them since so many of them want to live here!”

“If we ban one religion in Westeros, shouldn’t we ban _all_ religion in Westeros?” It was always unnerving when Weasel’s gravelly voice entered a conversation.

“Society and Culture sound intense.” Gendry commented, smiling at Weasel as she handed him her ham sandwich (she’d _yet_ to tell her parents she was vegetarian) without looking up from her book. “Who’s this new girl, anyway?”

“Can’t remember her name. It was _pretty_ , though. Just like her.”

“Okay, Hot Pie, I think we’ve _safely_ established that she’s fucking pretty.” Lommy sneered. “But she talks too much. And she probably hasn’t worked a day in her life. Apparently she spent the whole of her holidays travelling all ‘round the North.”

“I wish I could travel around the North.” Gendry grumbled, taking a chunk from the bread. “D’cha know that Winterfell U has a higher success rate of Engineer’s than the Citadel does?” Lommy snorted.

“Good luck getting in without a scholarship.” He was quick to hiss. “Ouch. Did you _seriously_ just kick me.” Weasel poked her tongue out. “A right pain in my arse.”

The conversation dropped and they sat in comfortable silence with nothing but the loud chomps Weasel would make after biting into her apple.

“Okay, but she wasn’t _that_ pretty.”

Gendry could _wait_ to be done with school.

 

~ * ~

 

“So, what’s the go on _February?”_

“More of a douche-y bloke. Definitely too cocky for his own good. Looks like he spends _too_ much time in the bathroom than this one does.” Mya nodded at the news as Bella scowled.

“I’m _right_ here.” She grumbled as the pair ignored her. “And _he’s_ a good shag.”

“What’s a shag?” An innocent six-year-old Barra asked from where she sat, playing some game on Mya’s phone.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.” Mya answered.

“All the Waters girls do.” Bella added. “Not sure about Gendry, though.”

“I was with Jeyne for months. I understand _perfectly_ fine.”

“You’re so awful with girls, though. It’s embarrassing, really.” Gendry scowled at Mya before turning on his other sister.

“How’d you manage to rope Mya into looking after Barra for your so called ‘good shag’.” He asked bitterly as Bella pouted.

“I’m going out with the girls, _not_ Aegon.” Both Mya and Gendry sniggered at the ridiculous name. “He’s with his stupid girlfriend tonight.”

“Oh dear.” Mya muttered, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Do you have _any_ decent morals in that head of yours?”

“He’s the one cheating, not me.” She said, too busy with the compact mirror and applying lipstick to look up. “And if the girl’s too dumb to realise her boyfriend’s snogging someone _other_ than her, does it really matter?”

“Wow.” Gendry muttered, shaking his head softly. “I’ll be off before this conversation somehow gets stranger.”

“What time do you finish?” Bella asked, snapping her mirror shut.

“Nine-thirty. But I probably won’t get home ‘till ten. Why?”

“Think you can pick a few girls up around then and take us to Mockingbird.” Mya rolled her eyes.

“That’s _exclusive._ Could luck getting in.”

“It’s usually when Tom clocks on. Tom _loves_ me; he’ll let me in.” Mya shook her head. “My friends will pay you.” She smirked.

“They usually call that prostitution.” Mya snidely remarked, laughing at her sister’s scowling face.

“I’ll text you when I get off.” Gendry hesitantly said. “If I _don’t_ get a response in five minutes then forget the lift.”

“Have fun at work, Gen.” Mya said, waving him off as he stalked out of the house, back into his shite Corolla and made his way to the suburb of Red Keep, the _wealthy_ part of Kings Landing. And while the people were hard to please and difficult to deal with, the tip he received _usually_ made it worth the petrol money from the slums of Fleabottom (he _honestly_ couldn’t recall what suburb’s name _actually_ was) to the pristine lifestyle of the Red Keep.

Hot Pie’s sweaty face greeted him when he entered the small pizza shop (he was the reason he _got_ the job), behind the till. “Air con’s down again.” He panted. “It’s a fuckin’ sauna in there.” At Gendry’s shit-eating grin, he scowled. “Don’t look so glad. Sharna’s got bad news for you, too.”

“What?”

“She’s outback.”

Gendry grumbled and trudged out back to the flaming-hot kitchen, expecting the worst when Sharna’s red face turned at his arrival. “Gendry. You’ll have to use your own car tonight. Anguy _crashed_ the company car. Can you believe it?” She huffed, slapping down mushrooms on the base before throwing it in the big oven. “It’s in the shop; no doubt it’ll cost me a fucking fortune.

“Take my card if you need to fill up.” Gendry sighed. It was going to be a _real_ pain driving around the bustling Friday night city in a bloody manual. “I _hope_ I can trust you.” She joked lightly before the miserable expression took over her features.

Poor Sharna. Last week it was her divorce, this week it was _everything._ It was _not_ her year.

“Fuck.” Gendry muttered in the confines of his car as Sharna gave him the first address with a few boxes of pizza and a bottle of coke. His data would surely be gone by the end of the night using the navigator programmed on his phone; all to deliver _fucking_ pizzas.

The first house he encountered belonged to a wealthy man, most likely a cozy Friday night in with his girlfriend. Gendry tried not to stare at the amputated hand _or_ at the sight of the amazingly tall woman who rushed to tip him when the bloke didn’t (she expected this, it seemed). The house was sleek and modern and _everything_ Gendry would never own.

The second house was certainly duller than the first, but the old man still possessed wealth. He was a bit of a seed and blubbered too much. It was a struggle to get way under five minutes with the man going on about his weak knees (he could still procreate apparently). Gendry _shuddered_ once back in his car after that once. He _still_ tipped generously, although less than the previous woman.

The next house was at the end of a cul-de-sac. He needed a bag for the pizza and had to go back for the soft drink. It was _clear_ it was a slumber party from the screaming girls inside and the stressed, greying father _clearly_ regretting every life decision he’d made up until that point. He’d all-but snatched the boxes off Gendry, shoving the money into his hand telling him to ‘keep the change’. It was a lousy dollar’s worth of change, but he was grateful nonetheless.

He liked this part of the job. He saw the very different lives of others; the people who didn’t have money to worry about, just themselves. A glimpse into an otherworldly realm. Only, sometimes, you’d encounter those ‘people’, and the desire to hate those who possessed wealth was all too easy. Gendry’s next house was _exactly_ one of those.

This house was on Aegon’s High Hill; the first awful sign (it was nicknamed _Snob Hill_ for a reason). The next was the thumping bass of some awful,  amateur DJ’s remix of the next pop hit on mainstream radio. He had to buzz in at the gate just drive in. The house – or mansion, whichever you prefer – was shrouded in privacy. It was surrounded in shrubbery with flower’s Mya would kill to have in her garden.

He walked to the door, gulping down the nerves, with a large stack of pizza in his hands (there was _another_ in the back seat of his Corolla). 

The kid who opened to door _must’ve_ been his age. He wore a high-brand shirt that must’ve cost Gendry’s weekly pay, those strange in-trend and shoes brighter than the moon.

“Hey, man.” His words were slightly slurred, taking the pizza’s off his hands and passing them off to some other bloke standing at the door as Gendry jogged down the steps to grab the other stack.

“Nice car.” He was being sarcastic. The snigger said it all. “I thought some lowlife was trying to crash. I wouldn’t blame you. _Most_ people would love to come to my eighteenth; biggest party of the year.” He was smashed and it was _barely_ half-eight.

Gendry looked past and saw a group of kids passing around a fag. “Not my scene, I’m afraid.”

“Clearly.” He sneered, eyes flicking over to his car before giving him a once over. “How much do I owe you?” The guy scowled, pulling out his wallet. 

Gendry told him the amount and was quick to get the fuck out of there before his quick temper got the better of him. There was no tip from that house.

He filled up on fuel on his way back to the shop, starting on the clean-up as they readied to close-up. The few deliveries that came up in the thirty minutes were close enough to bike – that job belonged to Anguy, obviously.

He’d be lying if he didn’t bitch about the smug, no-tipping arsehole. They all did. Sharna was by no means rich, Anguy was a struggling uni-student and Hot Pie was in the same boat as him; grabbing every scrap of money every time it came around to some place nicer. It’d made the condescending experience that little bit better. They laughed over it, swore over it, and in some cases (Hot Pie), cried over it. It was how they dealt, dealing with the people of the Red Keep; their envious lives were too tough to see, sometimes.

“You’ve got another on the hill.” Sharna announced as he began sweeping the kitchen floor. “Should be the last of the night.”

“Don’t groan. _You_ get to sit in air-con for fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t _you_ complain, either, mister.” Sharna pointed a bony finger Anguy’s way. “If it wasn’t for your thick, ginger skull we wouldn’t be in this postion.”

“So I’m to be blamed for the air-con, too?”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. Red-heads are soul-sucking creatures, aren’t they?”

They heard Hot Pie’s loud laughter from out front as he counted the till.

Gendry left the two of them to bicker and clambered back inside his car with the two pizzas in hand.

He climbed up the hill, once again, and followed the directions the mechanical female voice gave.

He was in the wealthier part of Snob Hill. He’d only gone so far a few times. Most of these houses would choose a more refined and popular pizza store than _A Slice of Sharna’s_ (they’d all tried to get her to change the name).

_“Gods be good.”_ He whispered after the voice told him he’d reached his destination. He parked outside the gate, pressing the button to the machine on the left of the gate, pizza in hand as he dazedly looked at the house

The gates parted not long after and he couldn’t but gasp. He outright laughed at the wolf gargoyles just beside the steps to the door. He was taken aback by the blue roses in the garden that he _almost_ fell over at the sound of a heavy door opening.

His jaw _almost_ dropped.

She wore a bright smile, her grey eyes twinkling like stars. Her full lips parted ways for a toothy grin and her lithe, slender figure contained in a small frame. She was all hard eyes, soft curves.

She was _easily_ the most beautiful fucking girl in the world. And she couldn’t have been much younger than himself.

He blinked blankly, clearing his throat.

“Thank you so much.” She said brightly, taking the pizza from his hands. She handed him a twenty and a ten. She _only_ owed him a twenty.

“Oh, this is too much.” He protested quickly, handing her back the money. If it were anyone else, _he_ would be the one professing his gratitude.

“Don’t be _stupid.”_ She said firmly, pressing the crisp note into his still-outstretched hand and forcing his fingers closed. He _almost_ died at the contact.

“No really, it’s—”

“Baby?” A voice interrupted his own. “What’s taking so long.”

Gendry watched as strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, a smirking face appearing over her shoulder, brushing the girl’s short brown hair.

He could tell immediately that _Feb_ didn’t recognise him. To him, Gendry was only the pizza guy, not his side-girl’s younger brother.

Maybe it was the visor on his head, or _maybe_ the guy was more of a smug arsehole than Gendry thought.

Gendry felt sick as the girl leaned into her boyfriend’s touch. Her _unfaithful_ boyfriend.

He was smirking, his strange purple eyes boring into his own; _‘mine’_ they said, territorial like she was his possession.

“Thank you for the pizza.” She said, once again, smiling. “The money _really_ isn’t a trouble at all.”

Gendry could only nod, barely able to think let alone speak. The door closed in his face, leaving him alone on the front-porch by the wolf-gargoyles.

_‘You’ll never see her again’,_ his mind taunted, _‘what’s it matter to you?’_

_Feb_ would be gone in a matter of weeks. What _did_ it matter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give Gang of Youths' [Poison Drum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DcOdeE_jEqM) a listen. It's a good one :)


	2. Chapter 2

****

~ Kansas ~

Unsteadiness belies your tender years  
With real world problems, and real world fears  
Be young, imbibe tonight  
Like you’re a work of fiction

~ * ~

Arya Stark.

That was the name Mr. Qyburn called out from the roll; it was also the name she responded to.

Gendry gave himself all about two seconds to appreciate the pretty name before eternally screaming ‘fuck’ in his head. She was here, in KL High, attending _his_ school and in _his_ biology class.

The new, pretty rich girl from the big house up on ‘Snob Hill’ with the boyfriend who’d been casually fucking Gendry’s sister for the past month.

Arya Stark. Always flitting from one group to the other. One minute she was sitting with that _huge_ group in the year who hold a party every weekend, their names _branded_ into the school with their personalities soaring among the differing students; the next and she’d be laughing with the nameless kid who preferred peace over quantity. She was a social butterfly, coming and going to spread her infectious joy. _She was mesmerising._

He was so _fucking_ fucked.

_Feb will be gone soon,_ he reminded himself, _only a few days left before ‘March’ comes around._

But then he looked up in the Library, eyes seeking out that _particular_ shade of brown he’d grown familiar with over the past few weeks. She was smiling and chatting to Pia, the ‘school slut’ according to Lommy. She’d occasionally slap a hand over her mouth to hold in giggles. She was so happy.

Someone laughed nearby, pulling him out of the trance-like state, pushing him back to the awful Ancient History case study on the Valyrian Doom. He hadn’t refused to look back up and see the joyous expression that caused her eyes to light up the room; he _refused_ to acknowledge the guilt that kept growing over the few weeks since her arrival.

Gendry was one of the first to jump from his seat and hurry along to his next class after the bell signalled the end of period. The further away from _Arya Stark,_ the fewer chances of blurting out the irrevocable truth.

“Hey Gen,” Mycha greeted him lazily as he slid into the woodwork rooms.

The guilt was quick to return. While _Arya Stark_ was a social butterfly and flitted from group to group, she made sure to drag Mycha along for the ride. They were inseparable. He swallowed thickly.

“Hey Mych’,” He responded after a pause. “Good weekend?”

“Not bad.” He shrugged. “Went to the gym and scored some bird’s number. You?”

“Went to Jack’s twenty-first. He’s a mate working at Mott’s.” He added at Mycha’s confused expression.

“Anything interesting?”

“There was a swack between two girls – they were wild.” Gendry remembered handing his beer over to Anguy just so he and Lem could pull the two apart before one gouged the other’s eyes out. “Other than that, it was pretty uneventful.”

“You going to Pete’s Friday night?”

“Rugby Pete?” Mycha nodded. “Nah, it’s my turn looking after Barra. Tobho’s got some big deal with a F1 hot-shot.”

“You’re missing out – Pete’s going big. Around two-hundred in his tiny complex; it’s bound to attract the cops.” Gendry laughed. “I thought I’d bring Arya around – time to show her how the folks of ‘ _Fleabottom’_ do it.”

“You sure she’s not too posh?” Mycha rolled his eyes at this.

“Come on, Gendry; you’re usually subtle with that shit.”

“Just like you’re subtle with Neddy Dayne?”

“That’s different – Arya’s cool. She isn’t like that at all.”

“She’s fuckin’ hot, is what she is.” Luke piped up from across the bench, making measurements for the bedside table he was constructing for his major. “You see the arse on her? When she was wearing tights the other day – Gods, lads…” He gushed.

“Doesn’t have the tits to tempt me.” Mudge responded. “I doubt there’s anything to hold underneath that uniform.” Mycha scowled as his face turned red.

“Do you _have_ to talk about her in that way? Can’t you at least wait ‘till I’m out of the room?”

“Fuck off, Mych’. We all know you got the hots for little Stark.”

He sighed and left the conversation, missing the red head’s biting response. Gendry would be a liar if he said he’d never made a degrading comment on a girl’s body before, but hearing them about Arya only made his stomach clench harder – he was _already_ guilty enough, there was no need to fuel that fire with inappropriate thoughts and comments.

Instead, he found himself chatting with Dondarrion about his major project – the one he had _yet_ to start. He was _in_ for a grilling.

“You should’ve started this last term, Gendry.” The man sighed. “You’re really pushing for time already.”

“I know, I know.” Gendry grumbled. “I just – it’s _so_ fucking hard. I have no _fucking_ clue on what to do or what to make.” Mr. Dondarrion didn’t berate his language. He _expected_ this from his seniors; according to him, it was a good stress-relief (he was _also_ the only teacher to heartily suggest sex as a stress relief).

“Let’s brainstorm, then: how about a cupboard?” Gendry scowled and shook his head. “A buffet side table, then?” Beric huffed at his response. “Make a bloody coffee table, then?”

“And how many _others_ are making a bloody coffee table.”

“It’s not about who’d doing what, Gendry, but quality. And sitting here, sulking over ideas _isn’t_ going to help you in quality if you leave yourself six months to construct.

“You’re my best in there; _you know that.”_ Gendry looked away, uncomfortable with the compliment. “So get your arse into gear and make some fuckin’ art.” He clapped him hard on the back. “Go grab my laptop from the staffroom and we’ll look at some suggestions, okay?”

Gendry nodded and did as he said, mumbling a quick greeting to the alcoholic religion teacher who _insisted_ on being called by his first name – Thoros preferred his free period’s down in the TAZ staffroom so he could talk to Mr. O’Sevens or Dondarrion – and returned with the laptop in hand.

Although they spent the rest of the lesson browsing on the internet with Dondarrion _occasionally_ getting up to help another student, Gendry still didn’t have a project to begin. However, he left with some solid ideas, happy and distracted as the bell rang for lunch.

He made his way down to the senior area with Mycha by his side, small bits of chatter of Gendry’s ideas and Mycha’s Foosball table.

They both stopped still as they reached the area.

Mycha laughed and turned to him, oblivious to his panicked eyes. “Looks like I’m ‘lunching’ with you.”

Gendry didn’t laugh; Gendry didn’t _breathe._ Because there she was, sitting and smiling with Hot Pie, Lommy silently brooding next to a reading Weasel.

After weeks, it was finally their turn.

As they approached the table, she turned and her eyes lit up like the night sky. Hot Pie turned too, looking more joyous than usual.

“Gendry!” He announced loudly. Mycha took the seat _opposite_ to Arya Stark, leaving him no option but to sit directly next to her. _Fuck…_

“Arya, _this_ is Gendry.” She turned and smiled warmly; he couldn’t help but wonder if she recognised him. “Arya likes to piss off Lommy, too.”

“I don’t _enjoy_ pissing him off; I _enjoy_ proving him wrong.” She smirked at Lommy’s scowl before turning to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gendry.”

He could barely reply with the heavy weight settling into his chest, but somehow, he managed to mutter a weak “You too.”

“Don’t worry mate, you piss off just as much.” Mycha said, clapping Lommy on the shoulder before pulling out his lunch. “The amount of rants I hear from this one.”

“Well, when _someone_ says something remarkably wrong, we should _always_ correct them.” She said firmly, turning back to Gendry with a raised brow. “No?”

“Uh, yeah – _sure.”_ She seemed satisfied, taking a sip from her chocolate milk. He couldn’t help but glance down to where her lips wrapped around the straw.

“Is Society _really_ this dramatic?” Mycha asked.

“Oh, yes.” Hot Pie answered quickly. “So many conflicting opinions – I mean, we rarely even hold debates but when political news comes into it, it’s a battlefield.”

“He’s exaggerating.”

“He’s telling the truth.” Arya agreed, shooting a glare across to Lommy.

“Uh oh.” Mycha hissed out, watching as Hot Pie geared up for a lengthy explanation on his honesty.

Gendry took the time to tune out the conversation and look across from him where Weasel sat. She paid no attention to anyone, not even when Mycha’s broad shoulders shifted and accidently knocked into her.

“New book?” He asked quietly. Her eyes flicked up and a second later so did her book.

“Nymeria: The Warrior Queen?” Arya asked, leaning in close to Gendry – she even smelled nice – as she squinted to read the title.

“A common misconception.” Weasel finally spoke. “She wasn’t actually a warrior in the traditional sense, but a—”

“A great military strategist.” Arya finished for her. “It’s one of my favourites.” She admitted.

“Me too.” Weasel said, before her gaze turned to him. “I suppose you want my food.” She dug through her bag before handing him the usual ham sandwich, a banana (weasel _hated_ them) and peanut-butter on biscuits (which she _also_ hated).

“Do you not bring your own food?” Arya teased beside him.

“Oh, he does.” Weasel answered for him in a dry tone. “He just has a black hole for his stomach, leading to some other dimension.”

“We best keep you fed, then.”

His mother had often said the same thing, when he came home from school winging about there being no food in the cupboards. She’d smile (one that actually reached her eyes), with her hands folded in her lap as she lounged on the old armchair with the grandfather clock chiming loudly behind her.

_“We best get you fed, then.”_ She’d hush out, reaching out to tug on the ears too big for his head _“I wouldn’t want my favourite son to starve, would I?_ He’d grin and remind his mother that he was her _only_ son. It was a fond memory of his mother; a rare happy one, too.

Gendry shot up from his seat so quickly she flinched.

“Where are you rushing off to?” Lommy sneered out, watching as Gendry shoved the food in his bag before plopping it on his shoulder.

“Dondarrion. I know what to do, now.” Everyone _but_ Mycha looked puzzled at his vague response. “I’ll see you later.”

He looked at _Arya Stark_ once more, with her furrowed brow and amusement brimming in her cloudy eyes, before rushing off to the TAZ staffroom with the very same question he’d been asking himself for the past month in his head.

_Who in their right mind would cheat on a girl like that?_   

 

~ * ~

 

“Hey Gendry?” A soft voice said near. “Why do you think mummy left?”

Gendry stilled from underneath the hood of the car. Barra had asked this question many times; and every time, Gendry stiffened, uncertain on the answer himself. It didn’t help that she’d worded it in a way _only_ a six-year-old could.

“I really can’t answer that, Barra.” He turned to look at her with his answer. She sat on one of the workbenches, swinging her legs back-and-forth with her hands folded in her lap.

“But she did love us, didn’t she?” Gendry frowned and stuck his head back underneath the hood.

“Why the sudden questions, huh?” He asked instead.

“We have to do a family tree; Miss Wenham said our mummies and daddies can help, but…” She trailed off.

“I’ll help you.” Gendry reassured her. “And I’m sure Tobho and Mya will, too.”

“What if my tree’s smaller than the others?”

“So what? Good things come in small packages.” His mind wandered to a certain Stark girl as he said the phrase before walking over to his sister and plucking her off the bench, setting her on the ground and bending down to her eye-level. “You may not have the tallest tree or the most branches or _whatever,_ but you’ll have the _best_ tree. Do you trust me?”

She grinned and wrapped her arms around him, her mop of black hair obscuring his vision. “I trust you, dummy.”

“Good.” He said, rising to his feet after she stumbled away. “Because your tree will be the best. Maybe even Bella will draw it for you – she’d good at that.”

“Yeah!” Barra said enthusiastically as she retook her seat on the bench.

“We’ll start on it tonight; I promise.” She nodded. “But for now, how about you just play on my phone for a bit, yeah?” She nodded again, only more vigorously this time around.

So while Mott dealt with a call in the office and Lem was off doing the lunch-run, Gendry set to work on installing the new engine for the old 2004 Subaru Forester while Barra lost herself in the new trendy game. It wasn’t an unusual routine for Gendry’s Saturday mornings; he’d often be at the shop, fixing or modifying the new round of cars that the week brought in and Mott was usually in his office, either _paying_ bills or chasing up _payments;_ that _or_ calculating the money for that week. 

When Lem returned with the take-out, they cranked up the music and cracked open a carton from the kitchenette out back, passing around the bottles of Great Northern (apple juice for Barra) and the containers of food. Tobho stepped out for a quick bite and beer before returning to the computer, Lem made Barra laugh and grimace with his silly jokes and Gendry silently sipped at his bottle, absently chewing and lost in thought.

“Hello?” A deep, northern voice broke throughout the music, both men suddenly perking up and throwing each other confused glances. “Hello?” The stranger repeated.

“You want to deal with us or will I?” Lem grunted out through a mouthful of food.

“I’ll do it.” Gendry sighed out, hands brushing the back of his pants as he stood to his height.

He peered around the car and came face to face with a man, average height, dark brown hair and beard obscuring his face. He smiled tightly before resuming his stoic expression.

“Afternoon, lad.” He began. “Is Tobho here?”

“He’s out back, on the phone.” The man nodded. “We’re not actually open on Saturday’s, though – just working on the cars—”

“It’s alright, son, Tobho told me to come ‘round and settle a deal.” Gendry nodded. “Know how long he’s going to be?” Gendry regarded the Northman warily as the man looked him up and down.

“Depends on who he’s on the phone with.” Gendry shrugged, glancing to the office seeing his tense form. “If it’s an argument, it usually lasts about fifteen minutes minimum.”

The man debated his choice. “Tell him I stopped by and give me a call.”

“Sure thing, sir.” Gendry replied, turning on his heel to return to the food.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Alyssa’s son, eh?” Gendry stiffened. “Alyssa Waters?” He clarified as Gendry stiffened.

“Yes, I am.” He answered after some time. “You knew her?”

“Just a little. Lovely woman.” The man smiled, then. “How’s she doing these days?” Gendry laughed bitterly.

“She’s dead.” The man’s smile was quick to soften. “She has been for some time, now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The man wore a look of sympathy. “She was a very kind person, your mother.” A _damaged_ person, too.

Gendry could only nod.

“Tell Mott I stopped by and give me a call when he’s not busy, yeah?”

“Sure thing, sir.” Gendry replied, watching as the man turned on his heel and walked away from the garage.

Gendry heaved out a sigh, questioning the strange interaction in his mind before returning to his seat next to Lem.

“What the – _Lem_? Did you even _bother_ to save me some, you fucker?”

“Mya says that’s a bad word, Genny.” Barra reprimanded, content on slurping her juice.

“Yeah, Genny boy.” Lem sniggered as Gendry took the last piece of chicken, grumbling under his breath. “Oh, don’t be such a salty prat. I _did_ pay for it.”

“Piss off.” He hissed. “Sorry, _Baz.”_ He added at her cool-blue gaze at the word.

“Oi!” Motts booming voice interrupted their banter. “What the fucking _fuck_ am I hearing about _Ned fucking Stark_ coming _and_ going not five minutes ago?”

_Stark._ Gendry’s eyes widened. _There’s no way…_

“What, you not going to growl at him for his bad words?” Lem teased a giggling Barra as Gendry paled. “Look at your brother – he’s terrified.”

It wasn’t Mott he was scared of, though. Ned Stark – Arya Stark. They did look alike, accent and all.

“Fucking Feb.” Gendry hushed out. This was _all_ his fault.

 

~ * ~

 

He overslept again; only this time, there wasn’t even time to shower.

As soon as he realised he was awake and glanced at the time on his phone, Gendry threw himself out of bed and quickly put on his senior jersey and changed his trackpants in favour of a pair of dark jeans. He made sure to drown himself in deodorant to wade off his sleep musk and barely glanced at his hair, ruffling at it and hoping for the best that it wasn’t a complete mess.

On his way through the kitchen, he stumbled upon a whistling _Feb._ He tensed and paused in his action to reach for an apple.

“Morning,” Feb said chirpily. He smirked at him for all about ten seconds before two slices of bread – now toast – popped out of the toaster. Gendry watched with a clenched jaw as he spread the butter, still _fucking_ whistling.

“Mornin’.” Gendry finally replied slowly, grabbing the apple and bringing it to his lips.

“Your sister’s still sleeping.” He winked at him, the crunch of the toast enveloping the thick silence as he shrugged on his jacket. “Tell her I let myself out, will you?” Gendry was stunned. “Also, tell her I had a _fantastic_ night – I look forward to the next.”

And with that, Feb turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, _whistling_ as he went. Gendry had _never_ felt more inclined to knock someone out.

Gendry looked at his phone for another time check, but his eyes were drawn to the date instead of the time.

Wednesday, February 28th 2018

He smirked, then; _goodbye Aegon ‘Feb’ whatever-the-fuck._

Gendry grabbed his keys from the hook and followed him out, taking a chunk out of his apple as he made his way to school.

He arrived late, of course. Ten minutes into his morning double-free, earning a disapproving frown from the senior supervisor, Mrs. Smallwood (she was a blessing when it came to writing essays). He looked up, searching for a place to sit when his eyes landed on her.

They hadn’t spoken since that day she chose their table. She continued onto flitting from group to group, dragging Mycha behind her.

She was alone, now. Pia wasn’t telling her funny stories and there was no stupid boy trying to chat her up. She was alone, face displaying that similar stoic expression like her father.

Gendry thought of Feb, then. How it was _likely_ he’d never see him again.

_‘This is your chance, Waters.’_ He thought as his feet decided to pull him toward the table like they ruled his brain. ‘ _Arya Stark deserves to know her boyfriend’s secrets.’_

But then she looked up at his approach, smiling warmly with a questioning brow.

“Gendry, right?” She began as he reached the table, standing as still as a statue.

“Uh, y- yes.” Amusement danced in the storm of her eyes.

_‘Tell her Gendry.’_ He thought. _‘Just fucking say it.’_

He opened his mouth to speak the words: but how could he word it? How could he word it in such a way where her face wouldn’t fall and those striking grey eyes wouldn’t show pain? And even then, why would she believe some stupid, random bloke who wore a silly ‘thinking’ expression (Bella called it constipated).

No sound came out, and her brow quirked _impossibly_ higher.

“So, _Gendry?”_ She began, smiling. “Are you going to take a seat?”

He shouldn’t have taken that damned seat. He _should’ve_ made some shitty excuse got the fuck out of there.

But, of course, he took the fucking seat. He pulled out his measurements on the Grandfather Clock for his major and began refining them. She smiled and happily went back to her work, occasionally catching his eye and sending him a perfect, toothy grin.

It was only the beginning of getting to know Arya Stark; the beginning of a brilliant friendship.

Ironically, _it_ was also the beginning of Gendry’s grave. And the hole could _only_ get deeper from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out the chapter title song,[Gang of Youth's Kansas.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3kQltMEkM4)
> 
> Comments are worth two Aegon Targaryen's.   
> Too soon?

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are worth one hundred Gendry's rowing back into the show :)


End file.
